Gone

The stresses involved in raising a young family are myriad.  GONE is a poem about a wife who feels she has been left behind.

————

She speaks to him this morning

Lying next to him in bed,

Of the children,

And the household.

Grasping,

Desperate for  

One word,

An indication that he cares.

His mind is shuffling papers,

Planning his next business conquest.

She can hear it in his monosyllabic replies.

His work has seduced him again,

Is more beautiful to him than she has ever been.

She ponders through the hours

While dusting trinkets,

Straightening rooms.

The spotless home,  

Tasteful, austere...

The way he likes it.

Shedding tears in her sandwich,

Soaking dough with salty drops of regret,

Dreams of happy ever after

Have faded into

The dishes,

The floors,

 The children's incessant demands,

  His deafness,

 His monotonous flicking of channels,

The walls that separate… tear at her heart.

He never sees her tired form,

Her heart crying out.

Setting the dishes in the sink,

She cleans them.

Her eyes focused on the back yard tree,

Her mind

Lost

In her pain.

Up the stairs

To the bedrooms.

Packing things.

Treasured keepsakes,

Tokens that once meant love to her

Slip to the floor.

Collapsing on the bed,

Burying wet sorrow into the pillows,

Falling into sleep.

Awakened,

Aware of the clock

Ticking seconds away.

She works frantically

Moving from  

Room to  

 empty  

  Room.

Fills the car with three neat suitcases.

Children enter laden down with books,

With laughter

Stop....

 Questions in their eyes,

Silence on their lips.

"No time to ask," she tells them, "Get in."

The car moves down the spacious, tree-lined street

Leaving a trail of exhaust

That disappears.

The woman and the tears growing smaller…

Then gone.

By Sharon Shoemaker

From: United States

Webstie: https://sharonsroseblog.wordpress.com/

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